He nodded. “They’re all on their way. Three of them will be here tonight.” He looked at the chunky black watch on his wrist. “Probably within the next hour or so. The fourth is flying in tomorrow morning. These guys are the best. We’ll come up with a plan to figure this thing out.”
The news was good, a relief even, and prickled over Becca’s skin. “Wow. That’s . . . amazing.” But didn’t it also mean that . . . “Wait. If you guys are going to go after whoever has Charlie, whoever attacked me . . .” She searched his gaze. “Without the police . . .”
“If Miguel’s suspicions pan out, there’s no other way to do this now but off the grid.”
Becca’s stomach dropped. “But you could get in trouble. If something happened, you guys could—”
“You’re already in trouble, Becca. We can handle it.”
“I don’t doubt that.” She shook her head. “But why would they do this for us? Me and Charlie, I mean.” Why were these strangers dropping what they were doing and coming here? And how could she ask these men who’d already sacrificed so much to give even more? She frowned, guilt making her head throb harder.
“Because I asked them to. Simple as.” Something dark and protective flashed behind his eyes.
It’s for Charlie, Bec.
Becca latched onto that thought and hugged it tight. Maybe their camaraderie with her father drew them to this, the desire to help their fallen commander’s family? “Okay,” she said, finally. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank you. Any of you. I don’t think this is the kind of thing where a case of your favorite beer suffices.”
“Don’t thank us yet. Come on, why don’t we go downstairs?” He rose, scaring the puppy awake. “I’ll introduce you to everyone when they get here. In the meantime, you can harass Jeremy.”
Becca smiled. “Well, with an offer like that.” She scooped the shepherd into her arms and stood, her muscles protesting the movement after lying there so long. “What do you think of Phoebe?” When he frowned, she nodded to the dog.
He grimaced. “Too . . . dainty. Or something. And the ‘ph’ is weird. How ’bout Spike? After those ears.” He rounded the couch and headed toward the door.
She followed after. “I’m not sure you get this whole naming concept. Boys get boy names. Girls get girl names. She can’t be a Spike.”
He shrugged as he opened and closed the door for her. “Better than Phoebe.” They made their way downstairs, where, much to Nick’s consternation, they had to pause to let the puppy out back to do some business.
The evening air had a chill to it as they stood in the gravel watching the dog sniff every blade of grass around the edge of the lot. Where are you, Charlie?
“I need to get a leash and a collar for her. And food. And all the other stuff a dog needs,” Becca said, trying to distract herself. Jess had run up to the convenience store and bought a small bag of food earlier, but it wouldn’t last long. “You know, when I decided to keep her this afternoon, I thought I’d be going home again.”
His gaze cut to hers. “It’s no trouble.” He shrugged and watched the dog’s dark silhouette. “We always had dogs growing up.”
She hugged herself. “Yeah? Us, too. What kind?”
“Just mutts. But they were awesome.”
Becca nodded and pressed her lips together to keep from uttering the awww that nearly slipped out. Something told her Nick wouldn’t love being thought of as sweet. “Come on, puppy,” she called, clapping her hands. The dog loped out of the darkness toward them.
“What about Killer?” he said as he opened the back door. “That’s gender neutral.”
They crossed the stairwell hallway, and Becca couldn’t decide whether to laugh at Nick or ask if he’d been dropped on his head as a small child.
Inside Hard Ink’s lounge, Jeremy sat at one of the tables drawing against a sheet of dark purple tracing paper. “What are you crazy kids doing?”
“I’m trying to pick a name for the puppy, and your brother isn’t helping.”
Smiling up at her, Jer said, “You can put her down if you want.”
“I don’t know. Last time I did that she ended up uncovering sex secrets.”
Jeremy barked out a laugh as Jess called from one of the tattoo rooms, “I heard that!”
Joining Jer at the table where he was tracing a large cross with a banner and flowers around it, Becca put the dog on the ground. “What are you doing?”
“Creating a stencil that will transfer the outline of the design to a client’s skin.”
“Oh. So you don’t just freehand it?”
“There is a style of tattooing called freehand, but that refers to drawing with markers directly on a person’s skin instead of stenciling on the design. Either way, the tattooist has a guideline on the skin. You really gotta know what you’re doing to freehand without any lines. I’d never do it. The skin’s just too pliable.”
“Oh.”
Flicking at his lip piercing, he looked up at her. “You got any tattoos, Becca?”
“No.”
He grinned. “Want one?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She glanced at Nick, who was studying her, like he was waiting for her answer, too. Man, the thought of his hands drawing on her . . .